Shades of Gray (KGI #6)(27)

She glanced to the side of the bed to find Cole as he’d been for the last two days. Propped in an uncomfortable-looking chair that had been pulled up as close to her bed as it could go.

He was sleeping, a fact she was grateful for. She’d purposely taken refuge in the pain medication, not wanting to deal with her team, all gathered in her room, sympathy and anger in their eyes.

And when she was lulled into oblivion by the medication, she didn’t have to remember the leering faces of Brumley and Nelson. Didn’t have to hear their grunts, feel their bodies pressed against hers.

She closed her eyes, unable to prevent the physical reaction the memory caused.

She’d have permanent reminders of Brumley’s violation. Scars she’d wear for the rest of her life. The doctor had gently explained that some of the cuts had been too deep, too jagged, but that in time they would fade. But there would always be a mark there to signal the cuts the animal had made to her flesh.

The more she came to awareness, the more the memories crowded in until her jaw clenched and she valiantly tried to steel herself from the raw agony that clawed at her.

She stared down at her right hand, which was casted, and she was confused because she couldn’t remember how she’d broken it. Clumsily, she reached for the nurse’s call button with her left, hoping she wouldn’t wake Cole. She didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to deal with the torment in his eyes. She just wanted oblivion.

A few moments later, the nurse hurried in and spoke to P.J. in low tones. She left once more but was back in less than five minutes with a syringe. She injected the medication into the port and P.J. closed her eyes and waited for the comforting lull to claim her.

The next time she opened her eyes, sunlight had flooded the room and her entire team was slouched in chairs surrounding her bed. Her brow instantly went clammy and nervousness flooded her.

She made eye contact with Steele first. Steele she could deal with. He was professional. He wouldn’t make her want to break down and weep like a damn crybaby.

“The girls,” she croaked out.

She frowned, cleared her throat and then blinked in surprise when Dolphin was there with a cup of water. He held it to her lips and she gratefully gulped half the contents.

When she was done she whispered her thanks and then leaned back against the pillows again.

“The girls,” she said again. “Did they get them out? Are they safe?”

Steele nodded, but his expression was still grim.

“Rio and his team went in with Nathan, Joe and Swanny. They intercepted the truck and brought down Wainwright and his entourage. The girls are on their way back stateside as we speak.”

“And Brumley? Did you get him?”

She held her breath, hope billowing forcefully into her chest.

Steele looked away, his jaw bulging. She glanced sideways toward Cole, who looked so coldly furious that she shivered.

“He escaped with his men onto the plane and took off,” Steele said in a quiet, pissed-off voice. “Rio had to make a choice between going after Brumley or saving the girls. They went after the girls.”

P.J. closed her eyes. She had no right to feel angry. The girls were more important than any sense of justice she felt needed to be exacted.

But the fact of the matter was she was gutted. Numb. While she lay in a hospital bed, Brumley and Nelson were out there. Free. Unpunished both for what they’d done to her and for what they’d done and planned to do to those babies.

She turned her face to the side, biting into her lower lip to keep her emotions in check. And then the soft brush of a caress glided over her cheek. Just one finger. The back of a knuckle. But she’d know that touch anywhere.

She should be angry with him for showing her any tenderness in front of the others. But they were all being gentle with her. Things had changed and she hated it all. How could anything ever be the same with her team?

This would always be between them. They’d treat her differently. Like she was fragile instead of a teammate capable of carrying her own weight and kicking ass with the rest of them. All because she’d failed a mission. She hadn’t been able to protect herself and she’d been stupid enough and panicked enough to take a drink from a man she knew not to trust.

“P.J.”

Cole’s voice came out husky, riddled with emotion. It was there for everyone to hear.

“Look at me, please,” he begged softly.

She turned, opening her eyes to see the tortured look in his own.

“We’ll get him, P.J. I swear to you we’ll nail his ass to the wall. He’s not going to get away with this.”

No one in the room denied Cole’s terse vow. They all looked just as Cole did. Furious. Worried. Sick at heart.

Live as a team. Die as a team. She was bringing them down. They were dying with her.

She took a steadying breath, determined not to let her building rage overwhelm her. She had to stay calm and focused. One thing at a time.

“We’re driving out to the compound to meet Rio and the others,” Steele said. “Be gone several hours at the most. You need to rest. We need to know what went down in Vienna. We’ll give you whatever intel we receive. I promise.”

She nodded stiffly.

Cole was the last to stand. He was still holding her left hand, his fingers twined through hers. Then finally he rose and leaned over to brush his lips across her forehead.